Page 49 of Last First Kiss

He’s pulled by the music. By the smoothness in Jamie’s voice. The confident grip he maintains on Jordan’s hips.

“And it’s just you two.”

Jordan finds flecks of copper and citrine in Jamie’s eyes.

“Your first dance as husband and wife.”

They turn again.

Reflexively, Jordan inhales. Amber and oak and sweetly ripe peaches.

“In front of your family. All your friends,” Jamie narrates. “That one douchebag from high school you hated but invited anyway because you want him to see how fuckingamazingyou’re doing. ‘Eat shit, Chaz. No one likes you and I’m happily married.’”

Amy snort-giggles loudly.

In the honeyed light, Jamie smiles. Sincere and innocent. The way healmostlooked ten years ago.

“All that matters is you two. Here. Dancing.”

For a second, Jordan’s eyes close.

He hasn’t shared a proper slow dance with anyone since Yazzie. Junior prom. For his senior prom, Jordan didn’t stick to one dance partner. Yazzie was his date again, but she didn’t seem to mind the way he bopped around from person to person while Calvin Harris pulsed in the background. She never complained when Jordan preferred to sit and talk while he caught his breath during the sappy love ballads.

This dance is different.

Strange. Mesmerizing.

Jordan’s lost in every plucked string. The rise and fall of Ed’s scratchy vocals. The broad shoulders his forearms rest on. Soothing thumbs rubbing circles along his waist. This one moment.

“Shit, Jamie.”

Sam’s awed voice breaks the spell.

The song stops. Jordan’s eyes pop open. Jamie grins at him in that sinful way Jordan recognizes—and low-key hates right now.

“See,” Jamie whispers, angling his head until his mouth is close to Jordan’s ear, “I told you to trust me.”

Jordan forces himself to look in Amy and Sam’s direction.

Flush pours down Sam’s cheeks. Amy beams so hard, Jordan’s convinced she might explode.

“That waseverythingwe want,” she says. “Right, Sammy?”

“You know I hate that nickname,” Sam says, sounding anything but annoyed. “Fine, fine. Let’s get married here.”

Amy’s whoop carries through the greenhouse. It’s almost as loud as Jordan’s unsteady heartbeat.

He steps away from Jamie.

What the fuck just happened? How did he get so caught up in one stupid slow dance? In ademonstrationmeant to persuade his clients into believing this is the ideal place for their wedding?

Jordan swallows, then says, “P-perfect. I’ll just, um, let Lilly know.”

He could do better.Shoulddo better, sound way more enthusiastic. But he’s between remaining professional and throwing a plant at Jamie’s head.

He mouthsThank you, ignoring the smug smile taking over Jamie’s face.

Turning toward the entrance, Jordan says, “Shall we—”